


It All Comes Back to Dalaran

by Veresiine



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Elves being problematic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 23:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16334993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veresiine/pseuds/Veresiine
Summary: Set in the early stages of the Antorus campaign. While on Argus, Verkira gets a message from Dalaran concerning her sister's death in the Purge of Dalaran years ago. She's not the only one with baggage to process, either. Marelan has been missing, presumed dead, for seven years, and no one has bothered to tell him what has happened in his absence. Meanwhile, Eresiine comes to terms with the reality of Argus being different from all the stories she was told of her people's home.All OCs all the time; there are only a handful of references to canon characters.





	1. Chapter 1

####  Argus - Krokuun - Verkira

 

Verkira glanced up at the sky. She focused in on the part of the northern Eastern Kingdoms that had once been her home, and tried to think back to the way things had once been.

“You know, when I was your age, I spent a lot of time running around and hiding in the woods,” Verk told the young krokul kneeling on the ground next to her. She didn’t know exactly how old he was, but from what little she knew of eredar biology, she assumed he was less than half her age.

“Really? Is that how you got so good at hide-and-seek?” He asked, looking up at her. There were still tears slowly running down his cheeks, but no new ones had formed in his eyes.

“… Sure,” Verk said, trying and failing to sound reassuring. His lip quivered. Verk sighed. She didn’t want to directly say that he was horrible at keeping quiet and that was how she had found him, rather than through any real skill on her part. “Listen. I know you said that you couldn’t be a ridgestalker if you weren’t any good at hiding. But there are so many other options out there!”

“Even if I’m not a hunter, I still need to be able to hide if I want to survive here. If even an offworlder like you can find me so quickly…”

“But that’s what we’re _ here _ for,” Verk said. “We’ll stop the Legion. We’ll make all the demons go away. You won’t need to hide anymore.” He looked at her with a quizzical expression, and Verk wondered if she had incorrectly remembered some of the words. She was so much more familiar with written Draenic than spoken, and it surely didn’t help that the version of the language she had learned was several thousand years removed from the dialect he spoke.

“Then why are you here playing with me instead of fighting?” He sounded genuinely curious rather than judgmental. Verk pushed away the twinge of annoyance she felt at that comment.

“Fighting all day wears on the mind and the body. I was out at the front lines earlier today. I’m just… staying here for now, rather than on the Vindicaar, for the times when I’m free.”

“Mom said you got into a fight with one of Velen’s people.” Verk laughed at that.

“It’s not quite that simple. I wouldn’t even call Rataalis one of –” Verk cut herself off. Rataalis was a draenei, after all, so even if his loyalty wasn’t directly to the Prophet, she could see why this boy would consider him that. “Well. He and I have never really gotten along. It’s just better for everyone involved if we have some space between us for now.” She shrugged. “Since Revenis isn’t there to mediate things anymore.”

“Revenis… who’s that again?”

“He was the young vindicator who came down here last week or so. I don’t know if you met him. He was distributing conjured water and telling jokes.”

“A lot of people came to do that.”

“Uh… hmm. Blue hair, curly mustache…” Verk traced an exaggerated pattern on her own lip to convey the shape of Revenis’s mustache. The boy giggled. “Kind of pudgy. Oh, and he uses an axe instead of a mace.”

“Yeah, I think I remember him now! I liked him. What happened to him?”

“He was caught underneath an infernal crashing down in the Antoran Wastes the other day.” The little boy looked at her in horror, and she held her hands up quickly. “Don’t worry! He’ll be okay. Eres and the other Anchorites are taking care of him. But it’s really best if he doesn’t have to deal with Rataalis and me at the same time while he’s recovering.”

“Who’s Eres again?” Verk had just opened her mouth to explain, but she didn’t get the chance.

“That would be me.” Verk and the boy both startled a bit and turned around to see Eresiine standing behind them. Her robes were a bit dirty around her knees and she had a few brambles stuck in her shawl and her hair. Verk supposed that scrambling up to the top of the hill hadn’t been terribly kind to her.

“Eres, don’t startle me like that,” Verk said, grinning slightly, as she patted the ground next to her, motioning for Eres to sit. “Come on, sit down, be sociable.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have that luxury right now.” Eresiine’s voice, normally warm and resonant, sounded hollow. Verk felt a chill running down her spine, but forced herself to keep her smile.

“What happened?” Verk asked. Eres looked between her and the boy. She smiled at him and mouthed something to him that Verk couldn’t quite make out.

“You have a message from Dalaran.” Eres told Verk in Common. The boy got to his hooves and started off down the hill without a word.

“I take it from your tone of voice that it isn’t just another message about a delayed care package from Marelan?”

“Correct. I’m not privy to the exact details, but it has something to do with your sister’s belongings.” A sound escaped Verk’s lips that was halfway between a yelp and a gag. “And, whatever it is, it’s urgent.”

“How could it be urgent!? It was two… two and a half years ago!” Verk demanded, looking up at the sky. She didn’t want to make Eres think she was upset with her when she wasn’t. Not at all. If she had to hear anything about this debacle, she’d rather hear it from Eresiine than from anyone else alive.

“Ver, you know how bureaucracies are.”

 

* * *

 

 

####  Argus - Krokuun - Eresiine

“Of course I know how bureaucracies are, Eres, it’s just –” Verk broke off abruptly. To Eres, it seemed as though she were about to cry. But she regained her composure a few seconds later. “What do they even want from me?”

“They want you to report to Dalaran. A Kirin Tor representative will provide transportation.”

“Great. Just great. What about my CO? How am I going to explain this to him? ‘Yeah, sorry, I have to take off for a while because my sister was murdered two years ago’!?” Verk’s voice was rising in both pitch and volume. Eres reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s all right. He’s already been informed. Everything is taken care of,” She said. Verk put her hand on top of the one Eresiine had put on her shoulder, lightly squeezing the sides of her hand with her thumb and pinky finger almost as if she were trying to gently pry it off.

“But you came here in such a rush. Either it’s very urgent, or there’s still unfinished business I need to take care of here, too.”

“The message said 'urgent,’ not 'very urgent.’” Verkira bit her lip. “Ver, trust me on this. Everything is taken care of. You don’t have to worry about anything other than your business in Dalaran.”

“I thought it was my shift at the infirmary tomorrow.”

“It was, but I’ve talked things over with the other healers. They understand.” It honestly hadn’t been difficult to convince them. While Verkira’s healing abilities were decent and useful, her bedside manner left much to be desired. Not a single person had put up a word of protest when Eresiine had offered to take over Verk’s shift instead. Rataalis would undoubtedly have his piece to say, but that could wait.

“You know how much they hate being short-staffed. Are they really okay with this?”

“Ver, it’s fine.”

“If you say so.” Verk sounded skeptical, but she started walking back towards the settlement. Eresiine followed her. “How is Revenis?”

“He’s fine.”

“How fine are we talking? 'Not complaining’ fine, or 'eating half the mashed potatoes before starting a food fight’ fine?”

“You know you’re the only one he does that with…” Eres reminded her gently.

“Right.” Verk sighed. Eres suspected she missed having someone with similar interests to play with. “So?”

“He’s back on his hooves, but it will be a few days yet before he’s sent back out to the front lines.”

“That’s good, I guess.” Verk looked up at the sky. “Do you think that kid made it back to the settlement okay?”

“He should have. I left a trail of enchanting dust on my way up here and told him to follow it back.” Eres explained.

“So that’s what you two were talking about. Makes sense.” The two continued on in silence for a short ways. “Hey, Eres?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been really… I don’t know. Into enchanting lately?” Eres closed her eyes, knowing that the next few dozen meters were fairly even and trusting her hooves to keep her upright. She debated whether or not to explain what had been going on to Verk. She didn’t want to worry her, especially not so soon after she had gotten distressing news, but she had kept far too much secret from Verk over the past few months and felt that the secrecy was hurting their friendship.

“It’s… a way to reconnect with my cultural heritage. With… with my mother.”

“Isn’t it painful, though? Seeing Argus like this?”

“Not really,” Eres said, then sighed. “Well, yes, I suppose it is a little bit, but I’m sure it is much harder on the older draenei to see their home like this. My mother would tell me stories, and my grandparents would let me access their memory crystals from time to time, but Argus as it was before the fall was… more of a fairy tale to me than a real location. I don’t have any personal memories of this place.” She opened her eyes again and glanced over at Verk to gauge her reaction. Verk was frowning slightly, and had put her hand on the hilt of her sword. Eresiine knew that she had no intention of drawing it. Verkira’s sword served much the same purpose as Eresiine’s staff; as much of a weapon as a treasured memory of a departed loved one.

“But wouldn’t it hurt more, having your ideals crushed rather than your memories?”

“I suppose it depends on the person. I’m… I’m fine, Ver.” Eres smiled at her. “I have a place and a purpose, and that is all I need.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Verk shrugged and let her hand fall back down to her side. “You always seem to handle these things with more grace than I do. If I were in your shoes… well, hooves, I guess… I’d probably be bawling for hours each day.”

“There is no shame in letting yourself feel and in letting yourself grieve.”

“See, you say that, but then I never see you react to… well… much of anything.” Eres supposed that Verk was willfully omitting those few weeks in Dalaran when she had been unable to keep a good handle on her emotions in public when she felt she had lost her purpose in life. When even her own faith had been shaken. She submitted to the will of the naaru and the Light. She carried that Light forward. But having it implied that her three thousand years in service to the Light had been counterproductive and against the will of the Prime Naaru, when most of the people she looked to for guidance were just as if not more shaken… it had almost been too much. Even for her.

“I do take time for myself. But I suspect you haven’t, with your sister.” Eres said, knowing she was treading dangerous waters. Verk tended to be extremely emotionally open with her, and had been for years, yet this was the one loss that she had said little about. At first, Eres had attributed it to the timing; during the conflict in Pandaria, Verk and Eres had communicated very little for fear of being branded as traitors to their factions. Now, however, she was nearly certain there was more at play.

“Why should I? I never liked her.” Verk refused to meet Eresiine’s eyes.

“Ver.”

“What? I told you. I didn’t like her. There was no need to mour–” Verk broke off. “Okay. Okay. I’ll… tell you some other time. I’m just not ready to discuss it now.”

“I understand. I’ll be there to listen whenever you feel is the right time.” Verk scowled. “And if that time is never, I understand that, too. Just… look out for yourself.”

“I will, Eres. Where is the Kirin Tor agent?”

“On the Vindicaar. I will show you.” Eres knew they were close to the encampment now, and would be able to reach the Vindicaar through the beacon soon enough.

She just hoped that, when Verk came back from Dalaran, she would do so safe and sound.


	2. Chapter 2

####  Azeroth - Dalaran - Verkira 

Verk stepped through the portal as she tried to calm her racing heart. Teleportation itself didn’t bother her. She had gone through enough portals in her life that the sensation was no more than a familiar mild annoyance. The circumstances, however, were enough to make her feel like she was going insane.

To begin with, she didn’t like being dragged away from her “home,” and the Vindicaar was as much of a home to her as any other place had been in the past few years. As much as she hated Rataalis, and as much as she missed Marelan and her other friends and acquaintances who had stayed behind in Dalaran, the front lines had become her home. It helped that Eresiine was there, and of course she appreciated being in the company of other, similar-minded paladins, mostly draenei and fellow blood elves.

As for the rest, well…

“Where are we going?” She asked the Kirin Tor representative, who had gone through the portal right after her. His mask – Verk never could understand how any self-respecting mage could wear something like that – covered his face and any insight she might have gotten into his feelings or motives.

“To the Violet Hold.” Verk felt her blood run cold. She stopped in her tracks, and the mage nearly bumped into her.

“Why?” She tried to force her anger to melt away the cold dread, but she couldn’t quite manage to.

“Because that’s where we have been storing your sister’s belongings.”

“You couldn’t, say, have them stored in the bank? Or one of the various unnamed Kirin Tor buildings around town?” Verk asked. All she could think was that he was luring her to the Violet Hold with the intention of doing away with her, away from prying eyes and in a place that, she was given to understand from Telaina, had various tools for temporarily disabling her magical abilities. ‘You know what they do to elves in Dalaran. Twice now. We’re fools for coming back here in spite of that,’ Tel had said. Verk didn’t usually put much stock in what the warlock had to say, but on this issue, she trusted Tel’s judgment.

“The details of her death are under investigation,” he explained. He had walked around in front of her now, and motioned her to follow. She reluctantly started moving again.

“ 'Under investigation’,” Verk repeated skeptically. He sighed, then whispered an incantation that Verk vaguely remembered as belonging to the school of abjuration. She decided that, whatever it was, it wasn’t worth getting concerned about. Their destination was far more concerning. The two of them stepped out of the door of the building the portal had been inside of. Dalaran was dark and nearly deserted. She wondered how Quendri was holding up. She was still mostly nocturnal, so she probably felt lonely at night. Maybe that one druid – Verk forgot her name – was keeping her company.

“The events of that day were, honestly, a chaotic mess, and we have a team of investigators trying to piece together what happened and eventually deliver justice to parties who may have… acted out of turn.”

“That, I understand, by why the Violet Hold?” Now Verk noticed a faint magical barrier of some kind around them, and supposed that was the product of the earlier spell.

“It generally isn’t disturbed and has many wards that make it useful for storing magical items. That, and as all this is technically part of an investigation, we can’t just store these things in a civilian bank. I understand your concern, paladin, but we are going to a… different area of the Hold than you may be thinking of.” Verk supposed that was a reasonable answer, but his assurances weren’t enough to dispel her suspicion entirely.

“If this is part of an investigation, then why are you bringing me in? It’s been two years. My sister and I hadn’t even seen each other for years before that. I only heard about her death secondhand from one of the other Sunreavers who had been there. I don’t have any information for you.”

“We didn’t call you here for information.  The investigation is still ongoing, yes, but we have gone through enough to release her belongings to the next of kin.” Verk supposed she should have felt relief, but all she felt was anger.

“And that took two years!?”

“Well, no, but finding you and getting a hold of you took time. We didn’t know who her family was, and the Thalassian government provided no information, saying that they didn’t want to jeopardize privacy…”

“Of course they didn’t.”

“We… well, we only figured out you were her sister a few weeks ago. It actually took one of our newer members – May, I think their name was – connecting the dots between the family crest we found and the marks on your sword, and her letters and your name, but we didn’t get the go-ahead to contact you until just now.” Verk gritted her teeth. Her heart hurt. She had only been away from Dalaran for a few weeks, and May had already gone ahead and broken the promise they had made to her.

“So why is this urgent?” She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice and focus on her earlier frustration with being brought all the way out here with little notice.

“Well, it’s the end of the world.” He sounded almost as if he was trying to make a joke.

“It has been for a long time. Be real.” Verk was in no mood to respond in kind, especially now that she could see the Violet Hold in front of her. He said nothing in reply. “Tell me!” He took a few moments to reply, but when he did, his voice was much lower and more serious.

“Your actions in Netherstorm are neither easily forgotten nor easily forgiven.” Of course they weren’t. Verk was by no means proud of what she had done, and had actually been surprised that she hadn’t been held accountable for her crimes the instant she had set foot in Dalaran for the first time. But because it had been so long without anyone mentioning it, she had almost forgotten those dark days.

“Why are you bringing this up?” She asked, as they stepped through the gate separating the property outside the Violet Hold from the rest of Dalaran. She tried not to startle when the gate closed behind her.

“Blood Knight Adept Verkira Maybranch, you are a force to be reckoned with.” She wanted to yell at him to never use her old family name. She was sin'dorei, not quel'dorei! Beyond that, the more distance she placed between herself and her mother, the better.

“I am. So why are you pulling me away from my duties, my purpose, my mission?” She didn’t try to hide the anger in her voice, and glared at the building in front of her.

“The Council thought it was best to offer this… closure… to help ensure your future cooperation, especially with tensions running high during the Antoran campaign.”

“If they wanted me to like them, an "I’m sorry” would have gone a lot further than this.“

"Due to your sister’s allegiance, you know that an official apology is nearly out of the question.” Verk briefly considered pushing the mage into one of the pools of water outside the Hold. He was close enough to the edge of the path that she could do it, but, while it might make her feel better for a moment, in the long term, it would only make everything much worse. That, and figuratively shooting the messenger, even in a relatively harmless way, was generally a bad idea.

The mage said some sort of incantation that Verk recognized no part of, and the door to the Hold swung open. He stepped inside, and motioned for her to follow. She caught a glimpse of some of the cells further in in the main room. All her previous anger melted away. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wasn’t sure why. She felt almost as if she were marching to her death, and that room seemed to lure her in.  _ This is where I belong _ . She couldn’t stop the thought.  _ After Netherstom. After Tanaan. This is where they put people who can’t control– _

“This way.” She felt a tug at her sleeve, and that jolted her out of the trance. She turned to see that the mage had stepped off to the right, and was pulling her with him. “We’re not going to the cells. We’re just here to pick up a few items.” She couldn’t quite make out what emotions affected his tone of voice. She supposed she heard a bit of pity. Verk opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He sighed. “Listen, if you’d be more comfortable, you can wait outside. I’ll bring the items out. She didn’t have a lot on her.” Verk nodded silently and made her way back out the front door. She walked around to the wall next to the door and leaned back against it, then slid down so she was sitting on the ground. She forced herself to take deep breaths as she struggled to regain her composure.

She was stronger than that. Stronger than she had been. She had both Eresiine and Marelan by her side now. Even if only one of them wasn’t enough to keep her from succumbing, the two of them combined were surely enough. She would not lose herself to her magic. She still had so much more to live for. She had apprentices of her own, in a sense. Quendri, May, and Jez all looked up to her. She still had so much more to teach them.

She would never follow in her mother’s footsteps and lash out at children, no matter how much she struggled for control of her magic. She might fall in battle and hurt them through her death, but she would never strike out in anger or desperation.

Eresiine had told her she had come so far. That she was so proud of her for extending the hand of reconciliation to the man responsible for her fiancee’s death. That wasn’t to say that Verk didn’t still hurt, or that she didn’t still feel anger. But she could move past it. She wouldn’t become blinded by rage and vengeance the way she had been in Netherstorm.

“Are you all right?” Verk looked up to see that the mage had returned, carrying a canvas bag with the mark of the Thalassian Guard’s Union on it. Verk looked down at her sword and rubbed her thumb over the crest on the pommel.

“I’m fine,” Verk said, but her voice was tight. “Is that it?”

“Yes. Everything should be in order.” He handed the bag to her, and she took it in her free hand. It was heavier than she was expecting. “Feel free to leave when you are ready.”

“If this is everything, why call me out here instead of just delivering this?” Verk carefully set the bag down next to her.

“It was May’s idea, actually. Said something about it being easier to get closure when you’re where it happened. They looked sad, as if they were speaking from experience.” He sat down against the wall next to her, about a meter away, with the bag in between them. “You and that kid know each other, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Verk didn’t feel like explaining any of that story. She realized now that this was probably May’s way of paying her back for what she had done to get them closure for their parents.

“I was told you generally didn’t associate with humans. Not in a friendly way, anyhow.” That much was true, at least.

“May’s just a child. I’m not about to hold a child responsible for the actions of their forefathers.” Or their legal guardian, in this particular case. Even if he had only been sixteen himself when it had happened…

“I see. Well, if you’re all set, I’ll let the appropriate parties know that this chapter is closed.” He got to his feet again.

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Can you let May know… thank-you?”

“Of course.” He started off, leaving Verk alone. She watched his receding back for what felt like a full minute before she looked down at the bag.

She knew she didn’t have the heart to open it now. Its contents didn’t matter to her, anyway. She’d probably go through them once before burying them in lieu of the proper funeral her sister had been denied. But then she’d have to contact her aunt, since Eliase deserved to be a part of this more than Verk herself did. And Marelan…

Marelan. The bag had originally been his, Verk remembered. And then she remembered, with a jolt, that she had never actually told him about the Purge, or her sister, or her aunt…

She still had, approximately, eighteen more hours of leave. It seemed she wasn’t done with Dalaran yet.


	3. Chapter 3

####  Azeroth - Dalaran - Marelan

Marelan carefully creased the paper in front of him after checking with his fingertips to make sure the edges lined up just right. He knew how much Quendri missed having Eresiine and Verkira there, even if she never admitted it. He thought that, perhaps, showing her some designs made of folded paper would help distract her and keep her mind off the loneliness.

The trouble was, it had been – thirty years? forty? – since he had last done this. He didn’t want to embarrass himself, so he was practicing on his own before he went to visit her the next evening. He kept trying to remember the patterns, but he always seemed to remember what each step had looked like, not what it felt like.

He could make a pinwheel. He could make a sailboat. Those had been some of Verk’s favorites when she had been a child, so he had gotten plenty of practice with those. As a bonus, they were simple to begin with. But he could not for the life of him remember some of the more complicated designs, the ones he had tried with Shoni.

Part of him was bitter that he was sitting here, in an apartment in Dalaran, folding paper, while the fate of the world hung in the balance. Yet no matter how many times he reminded himself of how important this campaign was, of the consequences of failure, he still had trouble thinking of the fight on Argus as being the difference between life and death for all of creation. Instead, all he could think about was how he couldn’t fulfill the last promise he had made to Shoni.

He should have been the one out there, on the Vindicaar, fighting to protect Verk, and not the other way around. He knew and respected that she had grown into a warrior in her own right, but she wasn’t invincible, and, on Argus, she would be facing demons far more powerful than she could ever hope to be.

She had told him many times that, while she appreciated his concern, she could handle things on her own. He, however, could not forget that time in Azsuna several months ago when she had very nearly been killed by a felguard. It had been pure luck that he had been there, heard the conflict, and been able to save her in the nick of time.

She had been reckless and stupid to break off from her group, and he had no guarantee that she wouldn’t be similarly reckless in the future.

He had already failed in his promise to protect her brother. The last thing he wanted was to fail to protect her, as well. Yet both the Illidari and the Legionfall insisted that he was not fit for active duty, and insisted he remain in Dalaran. At least he could take some solace in the fact that Verk’s older sister was probably fine. She had explicitly told him never to contact her again, so he had respected her wishes, but he knew that she was one to shy away from and flee conflict, and she was highly skilled in defensive magic and had a knack for quick teleportation. Whatever life had thrown at her in the past seven years, he was certain she had conquered it.

All he could do was sit here and, in his mind, be useless, when he should have been out there fighting for his family and fulfilling his master’s last request.

A knock at the door provided a welcome distraction from his thoughts.

“Yes? Who is it?” He asked, pushing back the chair, standing up, and turning around. He didn’t get a reply. Realizing that he had answered in Thalassian and any visitors might not necessarily speak the language, he switched to Common. “Who is it?” Still no reply. He highly doubted he still couldn’t be understood. Even the Horde visitors to Dalaran generally had at least a basic grasp of Common.

For a moment he wondered if his visitor was one of the Illidari expecting him to answer in Demonic, but he pushed that thought out of his mind. He probably would have been able to sense the demonic energies on them, and he felt none of those. Unless, of course, his visitor was another Illidari like him who wasn’t a hunter themselves. He pushed away a sudden surge of bitterness at how his training had been interrupted and effectively cancelled. If he ever got his hands on that eredar again, he would make her pay for all the pain and humiliation she had put him through. He brought one hand up to his blindfold.

“I said, who is it?” He raised his voice as he stepped closer to the door.

“Mar, let me in.” Verk. Her voice was about as low as it could go, and she spoke slowly and quietly. He wondered what she was doing here in Dalaran.

Regardless, he wasn’t about to leave her outside. It took him a second or two to find the doorknob, but he turned it and opened the door. He felt the air currents as she walked past him, and breathed a small sigh of relief when he realized he couldn’t smell her usual cheap perfume on her. Once he was nearly certain she was clear of the door, he closed it behind her.

“What happened?” He asked, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer. If she had neither time to bathe nor even put on her perfume to cover up the odor of sweat, something was very wrong. He heard the chair scrape back against the floor, then heard papers shuffling on the table, then he heard something being dropped onto the table.

“Mar, I–” She broke off.

“Take your time.” He debated whether or not to try to sort out whatever mess Verk had undoubtedly made of his papers.

“Mar, how much did you hear about the Purge of Dalaran?” He felt something in his chest tighten up.

“Not… much? All I know is that some innocent elves were killed, and people blame Lady Proudmoore?” He had heard whispers here and there. No one had seemed eager to talk about it. He hadn’t asked. But Verk bringing it up under these circumstances meant nothing good.

He realized what she was about to say about half a second before she started to speak.

“I… I don’t know the best way to say this. But Sister… she was in Dalaran when it happened. She was caught in the crossfire. She didn’t make it.”

“Did you just hear this now?” He asked. His voice came out flat and hollow. He had expected to feel… something. Instead, he felt numb.

“No, no, I’ve known.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted to forget everything about this.” He couldn’t find his voice to reply. “If I didn’t say anything, it almost felt like nothing had happened. And, you… neither of us had seen her in years. Decades, even. Was it decades? Does eighteen years count? And hadn’t heard from her in years.” Her voice got higher as she continued. “I could almost forget that –” Her voice cracked, and she sounded about to cry. “That I had a sister. And I wanted to forget that. All of it.” He was about to tell her that that was a horrible thing to think, but thought better of it and kept his mouth shut. “I…  I know you loved her. I know you still loved her even after the breakup. I know you don’t want to hear this. But I don’t have anyone else to go to right now. And you deserve to know.” The news was slowly starting to sink in. He wanted to sit down, but Verk was, by the sound of it, in his only chair. He didn’t feel like walking all the way over to the couch. He was still near the door, so he leaned up against the wall.

“Why are you telling me now?” She moved something around, but he couldn’t quite make out what. She was silent for a few seconds, then spoke.

“… Oh. Right. I-I’m sorry, I keep forgetting. I… I just got a message from the Kirin Tor. They… just finally released her things.” He heard whatever it was rustle about again. He assumed that it was her sister’s belongings. “That’s why… that’s why I was called away from the front lines.”

“So you came right to me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would they do that now?” He wondered aloud. She made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“I don’t even know anymore. Something about closure. Wanting my loyalty. It’s bullshit. It’s all bullshit.”

“It is.”

“They killed her! They killed her, they denied her a proper burial, and now they use her death just an an excuse to try to buy me. I never cared for her. You know this. But she was still family. I have so little family left, Mar.” At the end, she started to break off into sobbing.

“I know. I’m sorry. The Scourge –”

“It’s not just the Scourge. That was just the beginning.” Marelan disagreed. He and Verk had both suffered losses at the hands of the Scourge that had fundamentally changed them as people and in ways that none of the wartime deaths that followed had. He hadn’t mourned Shoni as publicly and visibly as Verk had mourned her fiancee, but the loss had cut him deeper than he thought possible.

And now he had failed his old master, the man he saw as more of a father than his own father, once again. Not only had he broken his promise and failed to protect his master’s children, this was… she was her own person. The woman he had loved. They had planned to marry. She had been an enormous part of his life for decades. He had tried to distance himself since the relationship had fallen apart, and she had told him not to contact her, but he couldn’t just forget. And now she was gone. She had been gone. And there had been nothing he could have done about it.

He didn’t know what he needed. Part of him wanted to be alone. Part of him wanted comfort and company.

“It’s just you and Auntie now.” Verk continued. She seemed to have regained a bit of her composure. Her voice was still wobbling, but she wasn’t sobbing anymore.

“Just us? What about your half-brother and –” Mar stopped himself. He knew better than to mention Leah. Verk would cope with that ‘loss’ on her own, and he himself didn’t want to be any more involved in the situation than he already was.

“He fell on the Broken Shore.”

“I’m so sor–” Mar started. Verk cut him off.

“Don’t be. You are more of a brother to me than he ever was.” Verk said. “That’s why I was so upset when you and Sis broke up.”

“We tried to let you know as gently as possible. We knew it would upset you.” Of course, Verk being Verk, she had done some digging around of her own before either Mar or Mendravia could talk to her.

“I know. I just wish I could show you the same grace here.”

“Verk, there is no good way to deliver news like this. And I appreciate you telling me, even though I know how hard it must be for you.” In some ways, this was probably harder on Verk than it was on him. On the other hand, Verk had had much more time to process this loss. He still couldn’t believe it. At least with Shoni, he had… been there? As much as it had hurt him to watch his mentor die in front of him, at least he knew without a doubt. And Turinath, he had had time to prepare; he had known for a long time that his body couldn’t hold out much longer. At least he had gone out fighting, just as he had wanted. And Verk’s brother had been ill for months before his death. That loss had cut especially deeply because he had still been little more than a child, but it hadn’t come as a shock. As for Leah, well… he had never liked her, and that made it a bit easier. Beyond that, she wasn’t, well, completely gone. But this?

He realized neither of them had said anything for a while when he heard something rustling around. “You knew her so much better than I did. Is it all right if I leave her things here with you?” He knew what he needed to say, but the words caught in his throat. Fortunately, Verk didn’t try to talk over him while he tried to speak.

“Verk, I’m not ready for this.” He finally managed.

“Yeah. I’m not, either. I guess I’ll go let Auntie know.” She sounded distant and detached. He heard the chair scrape back against the floor.

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Did you… just come over here to tell me this?” _ And to push this burden on me? _ He added silently.

“Mar, listen, I’d love to stay longer, believe me, but I have hours of leave, not days. And by the looks of things, I’m going to have to twist Star’s arm to make me a portal so I can visit Auntie. Convincing him may take hours.” He thought he heard her sit back down. “Listen, just… I know this is rough. But… Eres will probably be able to head back to Dalaran soon. You can talk to her. She’d… she’d probably be able to help. More than me, at least. You know how I am.”

“Verk, I don’t have the same relationship with her than you do. I don’t think I’ve ever held a full conversation with her that wasn’t about Aquendria.”

“She’s really good with this stuff, though.”

“She is a priest, trained and experienced in how to comfort the ailing, and one who has seen more than her share of bloodshed, death, and pain. That does not mean I know her on a personal basis or feel comfortable pouring out the contents of my heart to her,” Mar said. If he were to talk to someone about this, he’d prefer someone who would listen to him out of friendship rather than duty. He wanted more familiarity, and he didn’t want to be a burden to her, either. She had her hands full already.

“All right. I think I get where you’re coming from. But… keep it in mind, I guess? I know I’m terrible with these things. You deserve to have someone who’s… better.”

“Verk.” He smiled bitterly. “I need time. But I’m all right. I’ll get through this.”

“Good. I guess that’s my cue to leave, then.” He heard things rustling around again, then footsteps as she walked over to the door.

“Come back safe.” It was all he could offer her.

“I will, Mar. I promise. And when we’re done in Antorus, then we can go through all of this together. As a family.” She shut the door behind her. He caught himself reaching out as if to stop her.

_ I can’t fail again. I can’t lose her, too. _


	4. Chapter 4

####  Azeroth - Dalaran - Verkira

Verk yawned, then stopped walking in the middle of the street and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t know when she had gotten so tired. Crying always exhausted her, but when that exhaustion hit seemed to vary. She tried to shake herself awake, knowing full well that it wasn’t wise to wander around the city streets dazed after dark. It didn’t help.

She had probably been awake for nearly twenty hours now, but, as her day had started on Argus and telling time on that husk of a planet was difficult at best, she had no way of knowing for sure. Going through a portal hadn’t helped, either. She had had a pocket watch at one point, but it hadn’t held up well when she had been hit full-force with a chaos bolt a week or so back. The Light had offered her protection when her own magic had been insufficient to keep her from harm, but her belongings had received no divine aid.

Of course, that also made timing the rest of her Dalaran visit difficult, since she was supposed to be back on Argus in… how much longer now? Sometime around or after noon, she assumed, since she had arrived in Dalaran at night. She could almost see the sun about to come up on the horizon, visible between buildings.

It was probably a bad idea to go through with her previous plan in her current state. In order to convince Star to make a portal to Netherlight Temple for her, she’d first have to find him. She really didn’t want to go looking for him at this hour. He might take that as a sign that she wanted something from him other than just his magic. She probably couldn’t provide a convincing argument at this level of exhaustion without resorting to threats, and that would be a disaster. Even if she did manage to convince him to make a portal for her, and she got through it safely, there was a chance she’d be thrown out at the gates. She was a paladin, not a priest. And even if they let her in and she was able to see her aunt… she really wasn’t ready for that meeting.

Telling Mar had been difficult enough. She would probably have to go back later and apologize to him for just bursting in there like that and carrying on the way she had. She had been hurting and she had been upset, but that was no excuse for dragging her personal issues with her sister and her half-brother into this. Giving voice to her thoughts had helped – a bit – but didn’t excuse her actions. Fortunately, Mar was as patient as ever and hadn’t told her off. She doubted her aunt would be similarly forgiving.

There was a reason that Eliase and Verkira usually only communicated through Eresiine. Verk knew that she had broken her aunt’s heart when she had joined the Blood Knights, because it had gone against everything she stood for as a priest. Eliase also expressed disdain that Verk had thrown her lot in with the Horde, no matter how many times Verk explained that it wasn’t really up to her; if she was a Blood Knight, then she was Horde. If they were in the same room, they’d end up arguing about things like that. Again and again.

At least Eliase already knew of her niece’s death, and had presumably had time to mourn and to move on. She had denounced both factions and secluded herself in Winterspring after she had heard of the Purge. Only in the past few months had she emerged, and she had quickly thrown her lot in with the Conclave. Verk supposed that if she was back in civilization – somewhat – then the worst of it had passed.

Verk could probably just ask Eresiine to pass on the news and the package to her the next time they were at a Conclave meeting. That would spare Verk so much trouble. As much as she felt that Eliase deserved to know, there was no harm in delaying things a few days. Given her aunt’s dislike of her, it could also be easier for Eliase to hear things from Eresiine than from Verk directly.

“Well, well, well… someone walkin’ around Dalaran with her coin purse unguarded.” Verk startled a bit at the voice – low, rough, female, and in Orcish – but relaxed when she turned and recognized the face that went with it.

“Come on, Jez, you know I’m broke.” Verk replied in Orcish. She couldn’t keep a slight smile off her face in spite of everything. Jez’s presence seemed to lessen her exhaustion by just a bit.

“If you’re broke, then how do you afford to keep that shiny armor still shiny and not all dented?” Jeztok demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

“Deal with the smithy. He keeps me fixed up, and I make sure his secret stays that way,” Verk lied. Jez laughed.

“Sure. Suuuuure.” Jez lightly elbowed Verk in the ribs, then winced and rubbed her elbow when she came in contact with steel. “Come on, we both know it’s that fancy-pants jeweler who hooks you up.”

“Just with the settings around the shoulders.”

“Suuuure.” Jez rolled her eyes. “So, what’s in the bag? Back for a shopping trip?” Verk gritted her teeth. Things had been going so well…

“My sister’s things.”

“Your sister, huh? Wait… wasn’t she the one who…?” Verk couldn’t remember ever telling Jez about the situation, but they had spent enough nights drinking together that it was possible it had slipped out.

“Yeah.” Verk let her shoulders slump. She didn’t feel ready for this. If she couldn’t even have this conversation with Jez, there was no way she’d be able to hold up to talking to her aunt. Star was off the hook. For now.

“I’m so sorry. That must be difficult for you.”

“It is.” Verk saw no reason to lie.

“But compared to the mess you were at the Broken Shore…”

“Jez.” Verk shook her head slowly. “It’s different.”

“You lost a sister there, too, didn’t you?” Verk opened her mouth to reply, but she ended up gulping air. She hadn’t thought of it that way. But Jez was right. Mina had been almost like a sister to her. They had even called themselves “sisters in arms.” But somehow, Verk hadn’t made that connection between the turn of phrase and the family connection. “And looked less sad then than you do now. Even though, what’s it been, three years? Since your big sis?”

“Two. And… because I was angry. I had someone – something – to blame. Something to fight. I could avenge Mina. I could kill the demon who took her. A  _ demon. _ Not a person not so different from me, acting on orders they might have hated. And I could look her brother in the eyes and tell him that she hadn’t died in vain. Mina held the line to buy us time. Sis, though… she was just trying to live her life. And that life was stolen by someone else just… I don’t know. I don’t know what happened there. I never will know, with the Kirin Tor doing damage control and sweeping things under the rug. And I have my own orders. I can’t jeopardize the truce to dig things up and seek justice. Here, I’m just so… powerless.” Verk realized aloud. “So I wanted to forget. Because I didn’t want to take time to grieve. Because I didn’t want to feel that way. I thought that… because I wasn’t close to her… I didn’t have to acknowledge it.” Putting it into words also seemed to put the situation into perspective, but did little to make the hurt go away.

“And that’s why you’re still down about this, huh? It’s OK. Healing takes time. Longer if you don’t let it run its course.” Verk felt slightly insulted  that it was Jez of all people telling her this.

“Jez.”

“Huh?”

“How old do you think I am?” Verk asked, half joking and half threatening.

“A hell of a lot older than you act.” Jez shrugged. Verk scowled.

“I mean, you’re not wrong, but let me have a little dignity here.”

“Dignity is overrated.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you,” Verk grumbled, then bit back a follow-up comment about Jez being a ‘dirty, bottom-feeding thief.’ She sighed. “Listen, Jez, I’m exhausted.” Just because her heart felt a little lighter and in a little less turmoil didn’t mean she wasn’t still tired.

“Yeah, you look it.”

“I need sleep.” If she wasn’t going to visit her aunt, then she would have enough time for at least a quick nap. She would really need one, since she suspected she’d be sent right out to the front lines again as soon as she got back to the Vindicaar, and drowsiness in enemy territory was incredibly dangerous. And this was the Legion, not the Alliance. Humans would just kill her. Demons… she had seen what they had done to the krokul. She never wanted to  _ see _ that again, let alone  _ live _ it. The question was, would she go back through the portal to the Vindicaar, or would she visit one of her friends in Dalaran?

“Probably a good idea.”

“So. Try not to get into too much trouble, all right? Be a good influence for May and Quendri?”

“Verk, you know me.”

“Expect a warrant to be out for your arrest, got it,” Verk teased. Jez laughed, and clapped her on the back.

“Nothin’ to worry about. I’ll never be caught.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. Anyway, good night, Jez. Or, I guess, good morning in this case.” Verk squinted over at the horizon.

“Either works. Rest up, then give those demons hell.”

“That’s the plan.” Verk would have to make her decision quickly on where she was going. Onoras was a discerning merchant with a sensitive nose. He would force her to bathe before he let her into the building, and, while she would have liked a bath, she knew she didn’t have time for both a bath and a nap. She didn’t want to face Quendri like this. Quendri looked up to her. She had purposefully avoided showing weakness around Quendri, and she wasn’t about to start now. Quendri needed someone strong to cling to, who wasn’t a bad influence like Telaina. Telaina… Verk wasn’t even sure if Tel had a place in Dalaran, and even if she did, she didn’t quite trust Tel not to try to fry her in her sleep if she happened to snore. Tel could be touchy and unpredictable like that. Magi.  _ Warlocks. _ Even warlocks she had an… understanding with. Verk owed Soonsu a round of drinks after that bet and didn’t have the coin on her to cover that debt, though she did have the funds set aside in her quarters on the Vindicaar. Asking to sleep on an ex-boyfriend’s couch was much more trouble than it was worth, so Star was out of the question.

That left Marelan.


	5. Chapter 5

####  Azeroth - Dalaran - Marelan

Marelan didn’t know how long he had been sitting in his room, alone and in silence. He had sat back down as soon as Verk had left, but hadn’t even given more than two seconds of thought to continuing on with his folded paper. Verk had probably left it a mess, anyhow, and he didn’t know how he’d go about sorting things out. He had instead leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, and hadn’t moved since then. He probably had temporary red marks on the sides of his face by now.  He wondered if his freckles would still be visible through whatever red marks the pressure had left.

She had always told him how much she loved his freckles. She had always said they made him look younger. Cute. She’d pinch the tips of his ears when she was feeling playful, and he’d respond by tugging at her hair ribbon. She would giggle. She had such an innocent laugh that it almost made him forget about all the burdens she carried with her.

He would never hear that laugh again.

He had known that for a long time. When they had broken up, she had told him that she was leaving for Dalaran and she never wanted to see him again. He didn’t know if she had said that in the heat of the moment or if she really meant it, but either way, he had given her space. Yet some part of him had remained ever hopeful. He had never fully gotten over her, even though he had tried to move on. She had been such an enormous part of his life for decades.

Shoni had introduced her to him as “my daughter, Mendravia.” He had almost never thought of her by her name. First she was “Shoni’s daughter.” Then, very soon, she was “my girlfriend.” He had mentioned that to her at one point. She had laughed it off, with that sweet, innocent giggle of hers. She said that she hated it when people close to her called her by her name. She would roll her eyes and complain that her mother had been so intent on reclaiming family dignity when she was born that she had chosen a terrible, outdated name for her first daughter. Family dignity that Mendravia had then thrown away in the name of love. For him.

She had been so different on the inside than she was on the outside; Verk was her sister, they knew each other well, why couldn’t Verk see and appreciate –

Marelan cut that train of thought short. He knew that Verk’s quarrel wasn’t directly with her sister. She was jealous. Medravia had, to Verk, become the face of everything wrong with her early childhood. Mendravia herself hadn’t helped. She had teased Verk at least once about how she’d need to get better at magic if she wanted respect, knowing full well that it was a sore subject. Verk had then run crying to Marelan, and had sobbed into the hem of his tunic for what felt like hours until Mendravia had shown up and apologized. She had explained that it was just a joke and that she didn’t mean to hurt Verk, but the damage had been done.

How long ago had that been? Forty years? Forty-five? Back then, even in his worst nightmares, he couldn’t have possibly imagined all the things that were to come.

A few years after that, he had received word that his own brother had been killed by trolls. He had gone back home for the funeral. Shoni had negotiated with the Guard’s Union on his behalf to give him plenty of time off. It had been the last time he had seen his parents alive, but he remembered very little of their interaction. The only thing he did remember was that they had warned him that Mendravia probably had no intention of marrying a man of his class, and that he should avoid getting too attached.

He hadn’t listened. That had made it all so much more painful when some of his friends told him that she was cheating on him. He didn’t believe it at first, but the more they told him, the more it made sense. She was always sneaking off on him, and always seemed to visit one particular area of town. One day, he had decided to confront her. He had tried to break the subject as gently as possible, but she had been furious. She had broken up with him right there and stormed out with tears in her eyes.

He later found out that she had secretly entered an apprenticeship with a disgraced magister in hopes of honing her skills in ice magic, and that had been the reason for the disappearances. He had learned even later that her grandparents had been doing everything in their power to break them up and prevent “further tainting of the bloodline.” He had felt terrible for doubting her, especially given how much pressure she had been under. Another part of him was upset that she hadn’t trusted him with the details of the apprenticeship in the first place. He had tried to apologize to her after that, but she had shut him out and told him never to speak to her again. By that point, rumors of her apprenticeship had reached the ears of some elves in power, and she had said that her only viable course of action was to leave for Dalaran and that they would most likely never see each other again.

He had locked himself in his room after that and just sat there in the dark for hours, much like he was doing now. He had known that he needed to pick himself up and go to work, but at that point, his emotions had seemed more important than his senses of reason and responsibility. Part of him had wanted to stay there until he rotted away.

He hadn’t gotten that chance. After what must have been nearly a day of solitude, Verk had picked the lock to his room and stormed in.

He wasn’t proud of it, but his first reaction to this gross violation of privacy had been violent anger. Verk had quickly closed the distance between them and started yammering at him about something – he couldn’t remember what – and as soon as she was within arm’s reach, he had shoved her away with enough force to leave her staggering backward until she caught herself against the wall.

He could still see her face in his mind, even some thirty years later. She had looked hurt, confused, angry, and perhaps betrayed, but there had been no fear in her expression. If anything, there might have been a hint of relief in there.

They had shouted at one another for some time after the initial shocked silence. Eventually, the shouting had died down into normal conversation. Apparently, Shoni had sent her to check up on him because he had been worried about him. It seemed that he still saw him as part of the family, even if he was no longer a future son-in-law. Verk herself had been afraid that her grandparents had run Mar out of town and that she wouldn’t see him again, so she had quickly agreed to look for him and check up on him.

Mar had assured her that he had no intention of going anywhere. He had said – and the half-lie had nearly choked him – that it didn’t matter if he was accepted or not; he had pledged himself to the service of defending Silvermoon and nothing else was as important as that oath. He couldn’t remember Verk’s response or reply to that, only that, a few minutes later, she had been crying on his shoulder.

He very clearly remembered the “disciplinary meeting” after that. Both Shoni and Turniath himself had been sitting across the table from him, staring him down. While Shoni was, as always, calm and understanding, Turinath had made his displeasure apparent. He had harshly rebuked Marelan for letting his emotions get in the way of his duty, and had threatened to demote him if he ever disappeared for such a “stupid and petty reason” again. If possible, Turniath’s words had cut him deeper than Mendravia’s had. This was Turinath. A hero of the Troll Wars. The undisputed leader of the Thalassian Guard’s Union. The man Marelan had heard stories about as a boy and had tried to emulate. Mar remembered wondering, as he left, if his ears would be stuck drawn back and drooping forever.

Mar highly doubted the Illidari would call him in for a disciplinary meeting. They probably wouldn’t even notice or care if he let himself rot away in this room. The only ones who might notice or care would be the landlord when he came to collect rent, or Verk and the rest of the crew when they came back from Argus. If they came back.

He told himself that there was no point in being so pessimistic. Yes, it hurt him to sit here, unable to help, and awash in bad memories, but that didn’t mean he should assume that the future would be just as horrible as the recent past.

Verk was the only one left. The last of Shoni’s children. The last of her line. And the last of Mar’s family, related by blood or not. But he had taught her well. He had always encouraged her to use proper form when she was a girl and playing with a borrowed spellblade. When he had found out that she was prone to sneaking off into the woods alone, he had given her self-defense lessons in case her magic wasn’t enough. Even though he hadn’t wanted to see her join the Guard and then the Blood Knights, even though he had initially had trouble recognizing her as a fellow warrior, he had done everything he could to ensure she had the best training possible – and that she practiced said training.

Even if he couldn’t physically accompany her to the front lines, in a way, he was there for her, fulfilling his promise to her father to defend her. His teachings would have to be enough.

But could she do what she had to do with this recent news on her mind?

Verk had had plenty of time to process her sister’s death. The initial pain and shock had worn off for her long ago. Even if she was suffering under the surface, she had participated in many successful campaigns since then and had been both competent and dedicated. Yet she had seemed so upset when she had –

He cut himself short. Enough about Verk. He needed to sort through his own baggage. He had given so much of his time, so much of his life, to Shoni’s family. He needed to focus on himself.

He had done all he could. He had served Silvermoon faithfully for decades. Technically, he had done so for centuries, but thinking of it that way made him feel old. He had honored his duties and his word. It never felt like enough, but he had done the best he could without neglecting self-care.

That chapter of his life was over. He had to find his own way now.

Mendravia was part of his past. Shoni was part of his past. Turinath, distant was he was, was part of his past. He had to honor and respect what they had done for him, what they had been for him. But they were gone now. It hurt. It would continue to hurt for a long time.

The best way to honor their memory was to keep going.


	6. Chapter 6

####  Azeroth - Dalaran - Verkira

Verk stopped to rub her eyes, then squinted at the number on the door in front of her. After a quick confirmation that she was back at the right place, she knocked three times. She tried to think of what she’d say to Marelan when he answered the door. “Do you mind if I sleep on your couch tonight?” seemed like the best option. It was straight and to the point. He never was one for beating around the bush too much, after all.

“Who is it?” He called. He sounded almost as if he had been trying not to cry. Verk tried not to wince. She felt a bit guiltier than she had about how she had acted before. This couldn’t be easy for him. Of course it couldn’t. And she hadn’t made it any easier for him. She didn’t know if she could.

“It’s me. Verk.”

“Verk? Why are you back so soon?” He opened the door as he spoke, and Verk stepped inside. As soon as he closed the door behind her, the room was plunged into near total darkness. She was tempted to summon a small light so she could see, but knew she didn’t have the focus or control right then. Beyond that, well… she knew that, while Marelan couldn’t see, he could sense some of the magical energies around him. He had probably guessed that, since taking on Quendri as her ‘apprentice’ of sorts, Verk had been lax about upholding the oath she had sworn, but knowing she was practicing magic again was different from actually hearing and feeling her cast. She wasn’t sure how he’d take it. She didn’t mean to find out.

He knew, more than anyone else, just what harm she was capable of if her resolve began to slip. He had been there that terrible night, when her mother had finally succumbed. Verk could almost still feel the rain pouring down and smell the smoke and hear the shouting of the guards, and she remembered how she had just sat there and willed herself to sink into the stones lining the street and tried to forget. She probably would have sat there until she froze to death if Marelan hadn’t picked her up and carried her inside.

He had been there, at her side, in Netherstorm, when she had –

“Verk? Why are you here?” Marelan asked again, his voice a bit louder. He sounded almost impatient. Verk startled and violently jerked her head as if to shake off the memories.

“I need a place to crash for a few hours.” Her voice came out rougher than she had anticipated.

“Fine with me. Did something happen? Was Star –” Marelan sounded at once concerned and accusing, just as he always did whenever Verk mentioned her ex-boyfriend. Not in the mood for another scolding brought on by brotherly over-protectiveness, Verk cut him off.

“I’m not going to talk to him. Not like this. I don’t really want to see his stupid face tonight. Auntie doesn’t need to know about this right away, anyhow.” The words came tumbling out unfiltered, and she let them for now. “I’ll get Eres to talk to her. She’ll understand. They have that old lady bond. Which probably counts for more than family.” Verk stopped herself, determined not to let her own bitterness ruin her interactions with Marelan for a second time in one night. “They’re both dedicated women who have given up centuries of their lives in service of the Light, I mean. They understand each other.” Verk vaguely remembered where the couch was in the room, and made her way over to where she was pretty sure it was.

“All right. That’s probably for the best. She… does seem to like Eresiine more than either of us, anyhow.” Well, if Mar was the one mentioning it, Verk would indulge herself. She reached out with her free hand and felt around the area in front of her, and, when she felt the rough fabric of the couch, she turned around and sat down heavily. The couch creaked slightly under the weight of Verk and her gear, but didn’t give in.

“I’m not so sure she _ likes _ her more, but she does treat her better.” To the best of Verk’s knowledge, Auntie had never taken it upon herself to 'discipline’ Eres, other than yelling at her one time when she had gone to visit the 'other side’ of Netherlight Temple. Whatever that meant. Between her little brother, her aunt, and her best friend, Verk knew better than to pry too deeply into 'priest things’. “She’ll take the news better that way.”

“Will you have Eresiine deliver Mendravia’s things to her, too?” Verk realized that, while she had thought that was a solution in passing, she hadn’t fully thought through how it would happen and what it would mean.

“Uh… yeah. Probably,” Verk said, but felt a slight twinge of unease as she spoke. She trusted Eresiine almost completely, but she could be a bit… distant at times. Maybe 'strange’ was a better word for it. Whichever way, Eresiine didn’t seem to care much about the objects in the world around her, even important ones. Verk had once watched her calmly rip up her ceremonial robes to use as improvised bandages, even though Verk knew that, other than the crocheted white shawl she never wore (Verk had only found out about its existence when she had been fishing around Eres’s closet for something dry to wear one time when she had fallen in the mud while visiting Eres at her home in Dustwallow), those robes were all that Eres had left of her time at Karabor. At first, Verk had assumed that that was Eresiine’s way of letting go of the traumatic memories she associated with Karabor and its fall, but Eres had been far too calm and level-headed about the entire thing for that to be the case. Eres was a known emotions bottler, but Verk had gotten pretty good at reading her over the years, and she felt she would have noticed if Eres had any emotional investment in what she was doing. When Verk had asked Eres about it, she had replied, “fabric is fabric.”

Verk could almost understand that nonchalance if Eres only applied “fabric is fabric” to her own belongings, but she didn’t. Eres knew how important Verk’s sword was to her and never offered any comment or criticism about it. But if Verk, say, got very upset because another one of her belongings was lost or damaged, Eres would look at her as if she’d grown three heads, and suggest she calm down because whatever it was could be replaced, and that since material things were transient, there was no sense in getting attached.

Occasionally, she’d use that preachy tone of voice that Verk hated. Verk had called her out on it a few times, demanding to know how Eres could be so self-righteous when she had at least one clear material attachment of her own. One time, Verk had been so incensed that she told Eres exactly where she could stick that staff of hypocrisy.

While they were fighting for their lives on the Broken Shore. And in front of a child (that the child in question was seventeen and… well…  _ Jez _ … was little comfort). Not Verk’s proudest moment.

Even if the two of them had patched things up afterward and hadn’t had any notable fights or arguments since (not counting polite disagreements), Verk didn’t want anyone with that attitude anywhere near her sister’s things. It wasn’t as if Eres was purposefully careless – she was neither careless nor meticulous – but Verk doubted she would understand just how important this was. It was a cultural divide, and one of the few they hadn’t been able to reconcile over the years. Probably because this was the one thing – other than the whole demon-eating business, and that conflict was understandable – that Eres  _ didn’t _ meet with patience, tolerance, and acceptance, for whatever reason. Eres could deliver the news about the things, and she could do so with grace and understanding, but Eliase would have to go to Verk or Mar if she wanted Mendravia’s personal effects.

Verk turned to Mar as she felt and heard him sit down on the couch next to her, the space between them taken up by the bag. Neither of them said anything for a few moments, but the tension in the air told Verk that something needed to be said. She just didn’t know what it was, so she kept quiet, allowing the silence to drag on uncomfortably long.

It was Mar who broke the silence.

“When you lost Eli…” And there it was. Verk swallowed hard, and brought her hand up to the ring on a chain around her neck.  _ Here we go _ … “How did you keep going?”

“You’re not going to like the answer.” Verk tried to keep her voice even. It wasn’t as if the memories of her fiancee’s death were pleasant, but at least they didn’t give her the same visceral feeling of dread that memories of Leahni or Netherstorm did.

“I know I won’t, but I need to know all the same.”

“Mar, look, I want to help, but it’s… our situations are different.”  _ Eli and I were still together. He died in my arms, right there, and I couldn’t do anything… But, at the same time, I got to say goodbye. _ “Since you said earlier you’re not keen on talking to Eres, well… Rataalis, if you can stand him, might have a thing or two to say, though. You do mention how you respect him and all, and he’s let hints drop that he’s been in your shoes once before.”

“I can’t talk to Rataalis about this.”

“Why not?”

“He wouldn’t… respect me.”

“Mar, Rataalis is a jerk, I won’t argue that, but he’s not too bad to people he doesn’t hate. He doesn’t hate you. He hates me. He’s a miserable wet blanket, but he is a follower of the Light and all that entails. He wouldn’t lose respect for you over something like this.”

“Verk. Please.” Marelan sounded almost pleading. Verk realized that she hadn’t heard him plead with her since… well, since she had been closing in on rock bottom in Netherstorm. There was no way she could, in good conscience, turn him down. She didn’t really want to talk about it, but she also didn’t want to continue pushing Marelan away and making his day worse.

“All right. When I lost Eli… I… I don’t really know how I did it. There was a lot of anger. A lot of alcohol.”

“Alcohol? Really?” Marelan sounded almost amused, with hints of both concern and mocking. He knew as well as Verk did that she couldn’t hold her liquor and tended to avoid it. But he evidently didn’t know of at least one of the two periods in her life when she had been almost grateful for her low tolerance. Smaller tabs, that way. She realized that, coincidentally, those periods lined up almost exactly with the times he hadn’t been there in her life.

“Look, I was shoved through a portal to safety, and 'safety’ happened to mean 'dwarves’. Of course there was alcohol. Brun kept me from doing anything too stupid.”

“Brun?”

“One of Auntie’s friends from forever ago. She took me in until we got your letter that things were safe. Or at least as safe as they’d ever get.” Verk took a deep breath, and tried to focus on her emotions rather than the exact happenings in the months following Eli’s death. The specific details wouldn’t help Marelan. His situation was different. But knowing how she felt, that might carry over. “I felt so powerless, Mar. I feel powerless now, but it was different.” Verk almost said, 'I had been right there and couldn’t do anything,’ but realized, with rare foresight, that mentioning that to Mar would probably only make him upset about how he and Mendravia had separated and how he  _ hadn’t _ been there. “And angry. And I think it’s… it’s normal to feel that way. I don’t know. How are you feeling?”

“… I don’t know.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s normal, too. I had times when I was just too tired or conflicted or something to know what I was feeling. It’s just… I’ve heard other people say that, oh, they had to be there for the kids, and that’s what kept them going even when they didn’t think they could do it anymore, but you and I… well, there’s Quendri, I guess, but Quendri wasn’t there when…” Verk let her voice trail off. Rambling wouldn’t help Marelan. It wouldn’t even help her, really. That said, focusing on Eli instead of her sister was a welcome change from the past few hours. Even when she was thinking of Eres or talking to Jez, her main focus had been on Mendravia and the circumstances of the situation.

“How long did it take?”

“How long did what take?”

“Until you… until you got through the worst of it.”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I didn’t really pull myself together again until Eres got dragged into my life… and that was years later.” Verk shrugged. “But. We both know that losing Eli wasn’t the main… well, it was a rough time in my life for many reasons. Dad. Grandfather and Grandmother. Master. Mom and her… issues. Not having a home but suddenly having authority. The hunger. The headaches. The pain.” She realized she didn’t really need to tell Marelan all this. He was the only one who had been there with her through most of it. Of course he knew. “It was all one big jumbled emotional mess, and sometimes it was hard to separate, oh, was I angry because I was in pain, or was I angry because I couldn’t sleep, or was I angry because I had my old life and the people I loved stolen away from me? Or all three.”

“What about the boy? Felix, was it?”

“Yes. Felix. What about him?” Verk practically spat the name.

“Since he was the one most directly tied to Eli’s death, do you think you could use him as a gauge of how much of what you were feeling had to do with Eli? How long did it take until your anger at him…”

“It never went away.”

“Never? But I heard that you –”

“I didn’t save his life for him. I saved his life for May.” And for Eres, but that was another matter.

“So are you telling me that you haven’t been able to move on?” Marelan sounded genuinely worried, but she didn’t know if he was worried for her or for himself.

“I think… yeah, I think I’ve moved on a little. It took me a while, but last year I realized that… Eli would have wanted me to be happy, so I finally let myself see other people. Which, as you know, led to Star, and that whole gigantic mess. And I can talk about all this now without tearing up. It’s still like a big hole left inside me, and it still hurts, and I still miss him sometimes, but I’ve had so much life since then that it… I don’t know. Talking about emotional things is difficult.”

“It is.”

“Especially for us.” Verk gave a slight smirk. “What is this, the first heart to heart talk we’ve had in seven years? But… yeah. Mar, I wish I had more reassuring things to tell you. I… I kind of regret not bringing this up sooner. When we were all there in Dalaran, one big happy family, instead of just leaving you here all alone except for Quendri and Orlaney by the time this came up.”

“I’m not asking for reassurances. I just want to have a better handle on what… how moving forward will look.”

“You know I can’t tell you that. Every loss is different.” Verk realized absently that she was, right now, to Marelan, what Jez had been to her earlier. The troubled youth trying to give the elder life advice. It almost made her smile.

“I know that. Speaking of, how are you handling…”

“I’ll get through it. We’ll get through it.” Verk grimaced, then added, “Auntie will get through it. I guess it’ll fall to the three of us to get a service arranged. When we’re ready.”

“You mean you didn’t already have a service for her? It was two years…”

“I wasn’t ready to deal with it. Auntie wasn’t ready to deal with it. Mom is… well, you know.” Even though she knew that Mar couldn’t see her, and she could barely see vaguely where he was, she turned her head away. “Then there was the war. There’s always the war. I was busy. She was busy.”

“I understand. But, well… even if the family wasn’t ready, what about her friends?”

“Sis?  _ Friends? _ ” Verk asked.

“All right, fine. What about her masters?”

“Well, one of them personally hates my guts for burning his favorite petunias that one time Eli and I were playing in his garden while Sis was at her lessons.”

“Verk, that was forty years ago.”

“Mar, magi are vindictive assholes.”

“Then why did you date one?” Verk blinked, paused, and blinked again. Mar showing disdain for Star was nothing new. Mar pointing out Verk’s poorer life decisions was also nothing new. But his tone of voice when addressing that subject was new. He sounded more lighthearted than he had in weeks.

“… Feeling better?” Verk asked.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to.”

“… Yeah.” She didn’t know what to say. She knew she needed sleep. She rubbed her eyes. “You know what would make me feel better?”

“What?”

“Having the couch to myself.” Verk swung her feet up as she moved the bag out of the way, and prodded Marelan with the toe of her boots.

“Shoes off,” He ordered.

“Are you sure about that?” Verk asked, grinning wickedly. She hadn’t taken off her boots in almost twenty-four hours.

“My couch, my rules. I’d rather have to deal with foot-stink than whatever you may have stepped in on that demon-infested hellhole.” She couldn’t see him, but she imagined he had his arms crossed and had that overly-serious look on his face that he got when he was trying to hide a grin.

“Honestly, the things I encounter in the mess hall are much worse than whatever I may have stepped in on the surface.” There was a reason that she and Revenis preferred to use the mashed potatoes for sculpting and food fights rather than eating.

“Army food is just as bad as I remember?” Verk detected only a hint of bitterness in Marelan’s voice. She prodded him again to take his mind off it. He scooted over, away from her. Unfortunately for him, that only gave her more leg room and a better position with more power for the next time she decided to try to move him.

“Worse.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Mar, there’s a reason that whatever food you send me gets eaten the day it arrives.”

“I’m guessing that reason is either, you still have no self-control with lynx jerky, or you share with Revenis?”

“Hey, you’re one to talk! Remember the last time we went to that buffet? They ran out. Because of you.”

“I had pent-up demand, all right? Besides, you were there, and so was Quendri.” Verk almost couldn’t believe her ears.

“I spent more time talking than eating, and you can’t seriously be trying to blame the consumption of that much food on a nine year old girl, are you?”

“A nine year old growing night elf who is closing in on my height.”

“But not your weight.”

“Hey!”

“I meant you have more muscle than her, not that you’re fat.” Marelan didn’t seem to have anything to say in reply to that. They sat in silence for a moment. Verk realized absently how nice it was that they could almost go back to the way things were years ago. Almost as if the past seven years hadn’t happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never actually finished this chapter, and I doubt I will, but I figure some resolution is in order.

####  Azeroth - Dalaran - Eresiine

_ Several months later... _

Eresiine blinked Krasus' Landing into view as she stepped toward the edge of the teleport beacon. She stretched and raised her arms to the sky as she took a deep breath. She had almost forgotten how good sunlight felt during her months on Argus. Now all she needed was grass beneath her hooves and some time to run and dance and play, and she could start to shake off the gloom that came with months without green plants and natural light.

The transition -- unnatural darkness to natural light, and back again -- was easier for her each time she went through it. After enough centuries on the run, even radical change was almost expected. Of course, that didn't stop her from wishing she'd never have to leave Azeroth and all its life again. She missed her swamp.

"Anchorite?" Revenis's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked over at him. He was standing on the grass, and offered his arm out to her to support her through the high step down. She smiled at him and bowed her head slightly in thanks, then swallowed her pride and took his arm as she stepped onto the grass surrounding Krasus's landing.

She was sure on her hooves, healthy, and, while not exactly happy about recent developments, she found she was able to accept the reality facing her without too much grumbling. In that regard, she was much better off than many of her people.

Including Revenis.

Still, refusing his help when, as a Vindicator, offering his aid was what defined him and made him feel useful and wanted, would be rude. Once she was on the grass, she let go and turned around to look at the teleporter again.

It was over. It was done. The Burning Legion's imminent threat was gone. Her people were avenged. But Argus, the homeworld she had been told to fight for, was not recoverable. Not as the elders knew it. And Eresiine had no plans of going back.

It should have hurt. She should have felt disappointed; her 'promised land' was broken, barren, poisoned rock. But she had lived her entire life as a nomad, a wanderer, an exile. No matter how she sometimes mourned Elodis Perochi, or Karabor, or even Theramore, she knew that no home was hers to keep. It had been a hard lesson and a painful lesson, but it was her life. She found her sense of belonging in her faith, her purpose, and her people, not in her surroundings.

So 'losing' Argus didn't hurt. She couldn't empathize with the elders, watching their millennia of hopes crumble away. She couldn't empathize with the younger draenei who hoped for a home of their own to replace Draenor. But she could sympathize and try to help and understand. She would check in with Revenis later. He was still young enough that he might have seen Draenor as a permanent home that was stolen from him, and might have taken the elders to heart when they told him tales of their true home of Argus. And even if he himself was handling the situation well, he was clearly worried about the elders. He was probably more upset than he let on.

He hadn't done anything creative with mashed potatoes in over a week. If nothing else, that was a warning sign. At least it meant less cleaning.

"ERES!" Eresiine turned just in time to see Quendri running up to her before the night elf hit her with a flying tackle hug. Eresiine braced herself with one hoof back and her tail against the teleporter, and barely managed to avoid being knocked over.

"Quendri! It has been quite some time. It's good to see you again. How are you? How have you been?" Eres gave Quendri a quick hug before setting her down and letting go of her.

"Okay! Tel's been teaching me magic since Verk isn't here," Quendri started, and Eres felt as if her blood froze cold. She forced herself to keep up a friendly and interested expression as she told herself to breathe. "She's really good at it. Really good. But sometimes she gets a little scary with fire, and sometimes it turns different colors. I told her I want to learn how to do that, and she tells me that she can't teach me."

"What different colors?" Eres asked, trying at once to continue the conversation and try to gauge just exactly what might go wrong with a known warlock teaching an impressionable young mage. She wanted to trust that Telaina had turned over a new leaf. She really did. But Telaina was not only a warlock, she was a warlock who had knowingly allied with the Deceiver, and unknowingly nearly killed Eresiine and possibly several other draenei. Caution and suspicion were definitely justified.

"Usually pink, just around the edges! When it's not normal fire, I mean. It's really pretty! And then sometimes, if she's really mad, it goes green for an instant. She always acts embarrassed about that." Eres let out a relieved breath, though she felt Revenis stiffen beside her at the mention of green fire. Knowing that Telaina was appropriately ashamed of her use of fel magic and apparently trying not to use it was, at least, some comfort. She still would have preferred Telaina not be instructing Quendri at all, but Eresiine knew that it wasn't her place to step in if Quendri weren't in danger. And as for pink fire, well, Eresiine had never held anything against the Blood Magi. Other than the entire matter of most of them being loyal to Kael'thas, who was allied with the Deceiver... but that had been years ago, and both Kael'thas and Kil'jaeden were dead.

"Phoenix fire is definitely a sight to behold." Eresiine smiled. "I'd like to see that for myself, sometime. But for now, I think we should move away from the teleporter. Other people might be coming through, and we don't want to block their path."

"Right! Verk will be here soon, right? I have got to show her all the new tricks Tel's taught me! I've been showing Marelan, but, well..." Quendri looked sheepish, and Eresiine gave her a sober nod.

"Verk should be here any minute now. She wanted to say goodbye to some friends on Argus." And Eresiine wondered if, perhaps, even Verk would mourn Argus more than she would.

 


End file.
